“and 3 more packets of bread.”
I packed in the 3 bread packets in my bag and moved towards the bus stop. I hit the second turn to the bus stop, when I realised I had forgot my wallet there at the shop. Worried and petrified, I rushed back to the store. I reached the shop and asked the bakery owner if I had left a wallet here on the counter. He looked all over the shop but the wallet was no where to be found.
“Was it a brown wallet?” a staff suddenly asked when he saw the owner looking for a wallet.
“Yes, yes! Where is it? Do you know?”
“Umm, yes. One madam took it from here and rushed after you in the same direction. It looked to me as if she was here with you and hence none of us really bothered asking her anything.”
Here I was. Morning time to office. And I had already lost my wallet. It had my office ID, my cards and everything of value to me that could get inside that wallet. I decided to go in the same direction and look for the lady. I went inside to ask for the appearance of the lady from the bakery staff.
“About your height and curly hair. She’s wearing a yellow dress. She must not have gone far. She was on foot.”
I ran outside the shop. As soon as I stepped out of the shop, I saw a woman, roughly in her late 20s walking briskly towards the shop. Wiping her sweat off her forehead and somehow managing the hair which by now had turned clumsy. I had seen this lady while I was paying at the counter. I stopped there and waited for her to come up to me.
“Oh, I am sorry. Your wallet! I mistook it to be mine and by the time I realised it was not mine, you were gone. I ran after you but people at the other cross told me you went towards the shop. I am extremely sorry.”
“Ah, thank god. No worries at all. But it is surprising you have a wallet like me.”
“And I have never seen a man carrying such a thick wallet, I am sorry but I saw the photographs in your wallet. I shouldn’t have.”
“Haha, no issues. Thanks for this. I owe you a coffee someday, if you don’t mind.”
She laughed and handed over her contact card. An interior designer by profession, she was located nearby at her office-cum-residence. We parted, with me promising her a coffee for the trouble she took to return the wallet to me. All throughout my way to the office, I could not avoid thinking of her. The yellow outfit, the curls and the bright shiny eyes. It was to me, as if I had seen a view so pleasant that in the moment I forgot that I had a wallet lost!
A week later, while returning from the same bakery, I happened to cross by the address she had mentioned. I saw a postbox outside the office. I wrote a chit, thanking her and putting me name and my email id at the undersign. Maybe, going and meeting her in person was a little weird. Maybe it would make things look obsolete and wrong. I returned home. I got a mail later that evening and the mail read,
A warm greeting from the bread shop on the 4th street.”
And it all begun at that very moment. 16 years hence, celebrating our 10th anniversary of the wonderful married life, our cake read,
“…from the bread shop on the 4th street”
(This is an extrapolation of a small tale shared by a colleague of mine, however the gist remains undisturbed.)
Always Ranting, Rantzaada.